Glendora Group Home Takes an Outing
We sat at our scrolls when they appeared. One glance, I knew him for a knight puissant and fair, bien fait and courteous, though he wore scullion’s garb, the shiny board shorts, the promotional T-shirt. They paused and perforce he halted. Gracious he besought my favor, asked about our small magics. We are writing poems I averred and, like any knight of the court, he knew troubadours’ arts, joined our song—
The sun comes up,
the sun goes down.
The moon goes up,
The moon comes down
—and surveyed my amazement, offering his valor for our shield.
He showed his prouesse He praised me: fair, Alas, he bore a geas All sorrowful, his plaint. |
Did you write this page? Did you justify this margin? You’re a beautiful woman.
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